


Don't Drink The Kool-Aid

by Fedora Of Adorableness (TheTimelessChild0)



Category: White Collar
Genre: Allergies, Awkwardness, Parental Peter Burke, Sick Neal Caffrey, Urination, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:48:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27847166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTimelessChild0/pseuds/Fedora%20Of%20Adorableness
Summary: Neal has an itch. Unfortunately not caused by baseball.
Kudos: 14
Collections: WC²





	Don't Drink The Kool-Aid

Neal gulped down the refreshing red beverage. He was at the Burkes’, sitting on the couch next to Peter. After a few minutes, he got up and excused himself to the restroom.

It came out exactly as it came in, only in excess. Good sign of hydration, he thought.

The next time he felt he needed a _break_ was less than an hour later. He drank a little more and kept watching.

Peter spotted his peculiar motions soon enough, smiling while frowning; interested.

“Don’t tell me you’re this ecstatic about cupcakes,” he remarked, knowingly.

“It’s just...I have to pee again,” Caffrey explained, frustrated.

  
“So go pee, what’s the big deal?” Burke waved a hand, dismissively.

  
Neal stared at him waiting for the man to see some sense. But he only nodded towards the stairs. So he returned to the restroom. Once again, it came _pouring out_ , like he had the whole pitcher inside of him.

* * * * * * * *

“Let’s hope this stays a little longer, for once,” he grumbled as he sat back down.

“Hey, your body’s gotta do its thing, sometimes it’s a little off...you just gotta roll with it,” Peter urged.

The need seemed to rest for the time being. Though that did not stop Neal from shifting.

The Suit cleared his throat, reminding the man to go relieve himself.

“Not yet, Peter,” he informed his friend.

  
“Your legs are telling me otherwise,” Burke made him aware of his limbs. They were rubbing against each other. Same was true for his crotch and the cushion.

Neal crossed his legs, stilling. Eventually, he put a hand on his lap, slipping the other down by his inner thigh.

“Wanna know what your right hand just told me?” Peter presented the damning evidence.

“If it said I have to go, it’s _conning_ you. I have an itch,” he defended briskly.

This ‘itch’ continued to bother him.

“Is it hurting?” his handler switched gears from coercion to concern.

“Not really. Like I said, it’s an _itch_. It’ll go away in five minutes,” Neal guessed with a shrug.

* * *

It was gone in exactly five minutes.

“Okay, how did you know that?” Peter was astounded.

  
“I’ve had it before,” the con man replied instantly.

“When was that?” the agent asked.

“When I was a kid..my mom..” he began, pausing as a memory shook loose. “It was after I’d had Kool-Aid,” Neal realised.

“Maybe you’re allergic,” he suggested.

“To fruit juice and electrolytes? Where the only _reaction_ is an itch and going to the bathroom twice in an hour?” Caffrey put forth his scepticism.

“Maybe the itch is a rash,” Peter posited.

“That’s a stretch,” he argued.

“Still, doesn’t hurt to check it out,” the elder advised.

“Peter,” Neal protested.

“Please? For the peace of mind,”

“Fine!” he gave in. 

It was supremely awkward entering this particular bathroom to check _himself_ out. Tugging down his trousers, he gently lifted his thing to get a closer look. Sure enough; there was a small red area surrounding the tip of the tip.

“Strictly hypothetically, how would I treat this rash?” Neal asked through the bathroom door.

“Under the sink, anti-histamine cream,” Peter clarified.

Neal applied it and felt the sensation of the irritation shrink considerably, when covered up. He now felt uncomfortable in his underpants for an entirely different reason, but oh well...

He returned downstairs with a sigh.

“I’m gonna set up an appointment with a doctor to confirm what substance triggered it. Want me to come with you?” Burke checked.

“Yes, please. June knows a great one outside my radius,” Neal tried. The man agreed.

* * *

“So, here’s what I’m gonna do,” the Doctor introduced. “This is a very small needle. It _will_ hurt a little bit. I’m gonna poke your _penis_ with the needle,”

Neal shifted in the chair in anxious anticipation.

  
“It will administer a small dose of one thing it might be. We repeat until you get a rash. I got a higher strength anti-histamine cream when we’re done. Okay?”

“Like being stung by a hundred and one bees, with a hundred broken stingers. Proceed,” Caffrey commented, providing the aforementioned area of his anatomy.

He winced his way through nearly ten. Nr 9 prodded through. The clock ticked slowly. The hand not holding the dick, perched on the armrest, twitched. His left thumb hovered over the tip. Neal looked down. It was red.

“How oddly apt. It’s reacting to _red_ dye nr 4,” the physician stated, bemused. The cream was applied, the man’s chart was updated, and the owner of a semi-mature palate was pleased to hear not all flavours of Kool-Aid contained the allergen. 

One prescription for various Allegra products, and a reminder to check the contents of every bottle of the yummy drink; even ones he’ll think to have already checked _before..._ Neal George Caffrey flipped his hat back on his head and resumed his regular life. With an allergy. 

**To red dye number 4.**

  
  


**The End.**


End file.
